


Trapped in contradiction

by tacenda_setsunai



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mayor character illness, Mental Anguish, One shot (probably), POV Alternating, Rivalry, Secret Affair, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacenda_setsunai/pseuds/tacenda_setsunai
Summary: Rafa has to deal with ongoing physical setbacks and the endless struggle is starting to affect his mental wellbeing. One evening in Madrid when he reaches a valley of desperation, Roger will be there for him. But neither of them knows if that's good for them.





	Trapped in contradiction

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. I wrote this some weeks ago and edited steadily but was afraid to publish. Now time is unfortunately running out soon for some of the mentioned happenings which should have been in the future. It probably isn’t a great time for a fic like this since Rafa’s struggles sometimes seem worse than in a fic. I’m worried about all that has been happening to him in the past months and hope things will get better for him, soon. It might trigger a bit since I tried to keep it very close to real Rafa’s life :(. Please let me know honestly if you liked it or if it was just uninspiring and repetitive. Thank you. Btw. I'm a Rafa- Fan and not overly "Fedal", but they touch me in a special way. Also, I'm no english-native :).

**A day in May 2019**

There was that day in May 2019 when Rafa came to a point he couldn’t remember to have been before. He was at a low point already after the US-Open semi-finals when he had to retire in the match vs. Del Potro because of his sore knee. It has been the second retirememt in a grand- slam final in 2018. When this has happened, he was starting to feel sick and tired of permanently being in pain during matches, close to feel utterly destroyed for not having been able to fight for the title but with both- motivation from his team plus his ability to get over diversity quicker than others -  he found back some strength to fight through it all again and to even reach the final in Australia.

After a clear defeat against Novak, another unexpected setback followed in Indian Wells where he had to retire before the semi-finals against Roger. He simply could’t use his right leg anymore after waking up that morning. There was no other choice then to withdraw. It started to get exhausting, even for him. He felt sad and betrayed by his body and by all the gruelling questions in the press conferences - and he couldn’t hide it anymore.

*******************

On that sunny day in Madrid it wasn’t exactly the same. Something was bothering him in a different and new way, and it wasn’t the two semi-final- defeats and the lost clay points in Monte Carlo and Barcelona that threw him off the track this much.

As long as he could fight through a match, he learned to feel okay about defeats a while ago. He was still afraid to lose and nervous before every important match,  but when the defeats actually happened, something within him started to grow. He slightly started to feel human again. Angry at his mistakes first, then disappointed, but full of life and emotions. And after every defeat he could sleep, again. Like some weight fell off his shoulders. As long as he could finish and fight in a match he learned to forgive himself quicker, and he knew exactly how to step on, no matter how cruel the loss was. But regarding injuries, things got more complicated and more affecting at this point than they have ever been in the past. They had started to depress him more than he ever thought they could - and a lot has happened in the past few months. Each time as his game improved they pushed him back, it was absolutely devastating. He started to mistrust his movements, started to fear that as soon as he played at his normal intensity, something would get damaged again. All of this affected his game, his confidence, his optimism.

In Indian Wells he only won his quarterfinal- match vs. Khatchanov with a huge effort to withstand the pain that showed up in his chronic inflammated right knee during the second set- successfully forcing his hurting leg to obey and to finish the match. He even enjoyed this win and felt proud of it for some hours - but not anymore when he woke up the next morning after sleeping through painkillers. The knee and entire upper leg felt like boiling water was running through. Walking up or down any kind of stairs was a huge task, but the long flight home after the withdraw was unbearable. He stood in the gangway half of the time because sitting in the same position was the worst.

Despite it all, he somehow got himself ready for clay, again. A few days after he was home from Indian Wells, he went back to the practice courts to get adapted to clay.  At least he told himself that his knee was feeling much better, and he was trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t get worse when he could slide on the clay. It all was very fragile. Sometimes - in more intense practice- units - he couldn’t believe what new body parts wanted to get his attention by hurting and he had to try not to think about what could get worse because the fear of getting another injury would have limited his movements. It was a constant battle.  

Since 2017  he was ready to fight again. Mentally he was ready and motivated and he started to love to play and even to suffer, again. He overcame the worst of what happened to him in 2015 and 2016 when anxiety and panic stole his joy for the game. But now, that day before the semifinals in Madrid, something started to feel more difficult, again. His knee was a constant mess, his game felt shaky, too. And this was clay. He was used to the knee pain, as long as it wasn’t as bad as in New York and Indian Wells, he accepted that it never would heal properly for the rest of his career. There were other issues with his wrist, abdominal and iliopsoas- muscles, but all of that was endurable as long as it didn’t totally break up.

_(Author's comment: from here on, it was written as future, so facts will be not accurate anymore)_

What he wasn’t used to was that weakness that was cringing up his body during a quarterfinal match vs. Diego Schwatzman this day in Madrid. He still won the match, despite of a weird dizziness that he felt at every change-over. His hopes started to sink to a black whole within him. Because he knew what his general state could mean for the French Open, for the entire season and even for the future in general.  With Novak back at his best hounting him in the GS-count, also Roger decided to play on clay again, after having skipped this surface for the past years. Since Australia he doubted that he would ever get a chance to beat them, again.

_‘They want it all, and they will have what they want. I can’t blame them, I will never reach Roger, I failed to stop him when I lost to him 2017, and I can be glad to be able to finish a tournament more or less healthy at this stage… he will play until he is 40 years old… It’s okay. He deserves it all. And he always was the better player anyway. But I should not let him or Novak win the French, too. I just can’t… but I probably will. Because I’m... What even is that now?...  I feel so tired...  there is absolutely no way to get sick before another semi-final...’_

Just at this moment in the locker-room when he was starting to shout at himself silently and approaching desperation, he felt a cramp cringing up his left, less injured leg. He had put too much weight on it during the entire match -  there still was disbalance- so cramping was the price. At least it made him stop those thoughts, immediately.

_‘There is a good thing about cramps...  when they are here it is only me and the pain. No future, no past. Just pain. Even better now... at least I’m alone. Nobody will see what a coward I am when I’m tearing up from a ridiculous cramp’._

He could manage to lock the door from inside the room, laid down on the floor and started to dive into the tearing kind of pain of a massive, double- sided leg- cramp which even made him forget that tired and desperate feeling about the future-  as well as his sore right knee which was burning like fire.  After five minutes when he had to start fighting the tears to reach his eyes, he heard someone knocking at the door…. 

„Rafael? are you still here? Did you lock the door? There are players who want to shower, can you please open the door? And you should go to the presser!“

Carlos...

„ I’m coming!“  

Rafa tried to speak with a clear, normal voice. But he couldn’t stand up. It was one of the rarely severe cramps.

„Rafael? Are you okay?“

„Yes, sorry…  wait“.

He whipped away the tears which he failed to hold back and reached the door, crawling. Carlos and Diego entered the locker-room. Rafa’s cramp was still torturing him with the same intensity and Carlos immediately noticed.

 „Do you want me to push the leg?“

„No, it will be over in a minute, it’s okay.”

„Okay, I will leave you alone. After the presser we meet in the player’s lounge, okay?“

„Okay“.

Diego didn’t know how to react but finally found some words...

„Hey, Rafa, sorry... I saw you were not well today, again... Get well soon, okay?“  

„Thanks, Diego, no,  I’m fine. And sorry for the defeat, you played amazing. You will go far in Rome and Paris, okay?”

“I will try, Rafa, I will try”.

The cramp went away after nearly 25 minutes of torture. He felt exhausted to his bones and limped to the press conference with the last effort he could squeeze out of his tired body. Heat attacks, dizziness, and now that headache... Like a needle behind his eyes.

After meeting Carlos and Tuts, they drove back to the hotel, silently.

„Rest, okay?! We’ll  meet tomorrow 8 am for breakfast, but you better sleep longer if you can. You will play the last match of the day, luckily. Angel will come in about an hour to check you, but better try to sleep. You look pale...what is it, Rafael?  Are you getting sick, on top of all?“. 

„No. I don’t know. Yes, I will try to sleep...  Good night!“.

“I will call Angel to look after you immediately...  don’t tell me you got sick on top now...”

“I won’t”.

His Doctor, Angel Ruiz Cotorro who was with them this week, came by quickly.

“Tell me!”

“What? There is nothing new...”

“Are you getting sick?”

“No, I don’t think so”

“Pain of the knee on a scale from 1-10?”

“maybe 5. Was 6 during the match”.

“In New York you were at 9, as well as Indian Wells...  so we won’t reach this, I hope. Wrist?”

“4”.

“Abdominal muscle?”

“3”.

“So what was the real problem? You looked dizzy “

“I don’t know... I felt not very well...”

“nerves, for some reason?”

“No”.

“You also look pale. I will check if you have a fever...”  Angel took a thermomether out and measured his temperature.

“ you have 38,8 degrees. That can’t come out of nowhere. Why didn’t you say something before the match?”

“I wasn’t feeling bad then... “.

“Okay. Looks you’re getting a virus or something, just in time... I will leave you this pills here. And take five magnesium tablets, I’ve heard you were cramping again. Let me see the knee, quickly... It’s warm... Do you want a pain-killing injection now or not?”

“no”.

“okay, and we’ll punctuate it only tomorrow. Or should I do it now?

“Yes, better do that now”.

Angel did the weekly 20 -minutes procedure to get rid of that fluid in his inflammated knee, worse without having a pain killing-injection in advance. Rafa was not reacting to the deep sting of the thick needle like he usually did, he just let it happen without without the slightest groan.

“Okay, well done today, no twitching... and here is a sleeping pill which you anyway refuse to take, but who knows...  And this is for the fever... If I were you I would not take anything against the fever until some hours before the match. Better sweat it out, okay? I will order a thermos bottle with hot tea at the reception for you. You promise me to drink it all. And I’ll be coming by tomorrow 9 am and we’ll see what we can do.  Sleep,  Rafa!”

“can you...”

“what?”  

“nothing...”.

“You want me to check something else?”

“no, not that...”

 “the light”...

“Yes, of course. Good night! “

At 9:30 pm, he was still awake, staring at the ceiling of his suite with tears in his eyes for the second time on this day. Actually he was glad to be alone in his weakness once again, but hated it at the same time.

‘ _What is this? how should I play in this state... and what’s that crying.. why can’t  I just relax?! My body is done. It looks like I have no strength anymore.… and I can’t sleep, again. Again and again. Even with a fever I can’t sleep, this is incredible. I need sleep, so urgently. I’m getting a virus, one day before semi-finals. It’s like a curse. Why are this things always happening to me...  like a clockwork..  They are all right, I won’t win big titles anymore. They were always right by saying I would be done, early. I am. I just want to sleep, but no... I don’t take a sleeping pill, I can’t sleep better with them …’_

Rafa tried what he could to fight the desperation, but it only got worse. His defence- system to withstand these feelings, which he properly rebuilt after 2016 seemed to fail on him and there was nothing he could do, he just felt endlessly exhausted - but at the same time so anxious and tensed that his breathing stuck.

_‘It’s because I’m getting sick that I can’t stop this panic… it has to be because of this…’_

Phone beeps.... New message.

“Rafa, I hope you’re okay. I mean it, dude. I saw you weren’t well today. Let me know if I should quickly come by to visite you for an hour, maybe we can talk again about some things...”

Roger.

_‘Why the fuck does he have the insensibility to text me out of the blue so often recently... why does he think that I’m not well? ... It’s not of his business... why after what he has said in that press conference in Indian Wells...and now he’s asking and worried about me? Something is wrong with him. He likes to see me shattered... ‘_

Roger was playing the other semi- finals tomorrow, they would meet in the final if Rafa would make it there.. Thoughts... Just grueling little thoughts. After minutes, Rafa almost automatically started to text his answer.

“If  you have to, come here, you know the place and room number is 21. I’m awake. But please, I can’t stay awake for long. Only an hour. You know the backdoor. Please cover your face when getting off your car”.

“Of course”.

_‘I’m such an idiot I can’t believe. Why did I just agree? I don’t want to see him, I just do not want. He is unbearable, honestly, he is unbearable since 2017... Always happy, always joking.. can’t he see how much that sometimes hurts me? And that “I saw you weren’t well”.... was that so obvious`? I wasn’t even having treatment. He is ridiculous anyway... When I played and lost to him last time in Shanghai with the same knee issues, he hasn’t noticed anything. And now he’s just been compairing our careers in regard of  playing with injuries and pain... And, this he saw.... ? I don’t care. To hell with his ego... But as usual he will be the one... Not tonight. I can’t let him do that in this state I am....’_

Soft knocks at the door...

 “is open!”

Roger entered silently.

“Hi. Hey... Sorry man for showing up so late. I sould have come earlier... Oh man what is wrong.... you...”

“It’s nothing. I have nothing. Okay!? I don’t know why you think this now after I was just playing badly”.  

Rafa tried to sound harsh by interrupting him as quickly as possible.

“Don’t lie”.

“I felt a little bit dizzy during the match, that’s all. Now it’s well...”

“Shut up Rafa. You are not well, I see that from a mile...”

“like you’ve seen in Shanghai 2017... like... whatever.”

“Stop this, that’s not fair!”.

“nothing is fair, Roger...”  

Rafa’s voice all of a sudden cracked and sounded so broken and weak that Roger had to swallow hard. He had never heard something even close to this from Rafa before, at least he couldn’t remember.

“I know.... I’m...  so sorry, Rafa... oh god you look so.... “.

“ don’t tell me how I look. I look horrible.”  

Rafa was almost whispering now, it was obvious he had barely any strength left in himself.

 “you look pale but... beautiful... and.... and you make me feel like crying and I don’t know why...”

“because you easily cry and because you love to see me that way...  while you claim in press you would also be playing in constant pain and injured during all your career, same like me... and... but never talking about it.. I...  why don’t you leave now? Go...  I can’t Roger. I just can’t anymore.”

“Rafa!...”

“is true. Just go.”

“Listen Rafa, it wasn’t meant that way.... I was asked and annoyed about the question, because everybody always believes I don’t have any issues ever...  I haven’t said this to make it look like I have had the same struggles like you... if it sounded that way, I am sorry, I am so, so sorry - because I know what you’re going through and that you play with serious injuries for years now, which I hate to see... it was stupid of me. I understand if it has hurt you but it wasn’t meant like this...it was an egoistic and silly reply... and... and I didn’t came here to upset you, okay? I will better let you rest and sleep... this was a bad idea... I am sorry for everything what has happened... we had such a great time when we last met in Indian Wells.. ”.

Silence. Endless silence. Rafa tried to hold his death-stare to Roger, to give him a betrayed look but he felt to weak for real anger. He felt just sad. Overwhelmingly sad. He gave up.

“... No... is okay... stay. I can’t sleep anyway...”  

Rafa’s voice was so weak that Roger’s heart wanted to implode. He felt how much this statement of his has hurt Rafa and he realized how deeply desperate he must feel after all what happened in the last months...

“I don’t know if this is good for you, Rafa...”

“I don’t know, either but stay. Just sit here and stay. Do nothing...talk...”

Silence for long minutes. They felt like an hour.

“Rafa,  I don’t know what to say.... Again...  I’m sorry about what I’ve said. It was stupid. I didn’t think a lot before I spoke... It was after a loss...I was miffed.  I’m really sorry and I know I should never compare our career when it comes to who has been suffering more... I sometimes think I am having pain as well but it’s nothing compared to what you go through and I know that very well...”

“Then why did you say it? Is not just about me, is also about all the other players who had to withdraw from so many tournaments because of injuries... ”

“I don’t know.. I feel like people believe for me it all is a cake-walk. But it isn’t always as easy and relaxed as it looks”.

“I don’t know what to say, Roger.. I’m... I’m sure you have pain as well and this should no contest anyway.. sorry. I was being unfair... I’m... “

Rafa’s voice failed.

“What, Rafa...what??”

“...I’m... I’m…  just not sure how more longer I can continue like this...”

“Rafa!...”

The look on Rafa’s face broke Roger’s heart. He now definitely knew. It has taken him by far too long to realize at what a shitty point Rafa really was... And that he had no idea about anything he was going through or that he pushed the thoughts aside too often in the past months - and even years....

“Is okay. I’m just tired and... I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to do. I still want to play... I don’t want to retire so soon but I don’t know...”.

“Rafa... It seems I didn’t wanted to believe in what a state you are...I was hoping it was just...  “

Roger’s voice broke now, too. He felt a tearing wave of compassion crawling up his chest by looking at this younger man who looked so broken right now. He hated himself for what he has said some weeks ago in Indian Wells. For Rafa, his words must have felt like another punch in his tortured body.

Silence again while they had problems looking in each others eyes. The look on Rafa’s face showed not even the slightest signs of anger anymore... he looked just pale. So pale, tired and sad.

Silence.

***********

“can...”  

“what??!”

“can I check your temperature?”

“mmh”

“you’re feeling hot...” .

Roger couldn’t take his hand off Rafa’s forehead and startet to fondle his cheeks and hair...after looking irritated and almost scared first, Rafa closed his tired eyes. 

”Try to sleep...  wait, here is a thermometer.. did you measure this just now before I came?  You see, I knew...”...  

“I can’t talk so much, Roger, but talk on..” 

“you can’t play like this tomorrow, and you know that”

“fuck you Roger, you know I can”.

“Sorry... don’t overreact like this!... I really mean it... You should have learned it by now!”

“I am not you, Roger. You know this. Everybody is telling me these things all the time, but I’m not like you!”

He never heard this desperate tone from Rafa ever before and doubted if anyone else ever had.

“I know, Rafa, that’s why...”

 “what?”

“... why I adore you so much.”

“ you adore me for nothing, Roger, It’s nothing cool, and I wish it wasn’t like that sometimes... Is stupid”...

“Rafa... I don’t know what to say. You are so much more profound than me... You have like seven floors when I only have two...”

Silence...

“what did you just say?”

Shy giggles by both...

Roger whispered while stroking Rafa’s hair.

“I missed you so much”.   

 “ I haven’t. But now when you’re here and I'm hearing you speak so much nonsense... I start to... to like you again... I feel more positive for you.”

“You need to sleep, Rafa. I will go now.”

“What? no... why now, just when I said that...? you are weird... I am weird too. Why are we doing this...“

 “shhht. Don’t talk so much, you need to relax.  My god,  you look so beautiful.... are you warm enough?”

 “cold”...

Rafa’s broken voice and vulnerable look almost made Roger crazy. He adored him so much. Too much.

”but you’re sweating. It’s a high fever, Rafa. That’s why I don’t want to exhaust and touch you”.... 

“do. ”

Roger hasn’t expected this reply. It sounded like an order. Nothing, no word which was coming out of Rafa was expected for him tonight...

“It will exhaust you too much...”

“No. It can help... maybe...”

“Sure?”

Rafa nodded shyly with his eyes still closed.

Roger’s hand slowly touched the blanket and stayed away from getting in direct touch with Rafa’s glowing skin... sweat drops were running down Rafa’s foreheard now and his breathing got deeper. While Roger’s hand moved in slow-motion downwards on that velvet blanket cover, he could feel Rafa’s chest strongly move up and down.

“are you naked under that cover, Rafa”?

“panties..”

“Ok, I will be soft; Rafa. Just relax... I won’t try to... to fuck you today....  I just touch...”

Rafa’s breathing got more noisy with every inch Roger moved his hand downwards Rafas chest, still all covered by that massive satin cover. At some points, he felt Rafa’s breathing stopped for a second under the thick blanket.  When he reached his belly, Rafa was moaning almost unnoticeable.

“I will be careful, okay?!”

Roger felt the heat rising from Rafa’s body even through that blanket. As soon as his hands reached him between his legs, he felt his dick hard like a stone. Rafa’s entire body reacted uncontrollable to that touch, even when it was still only through the blanket.

“hey... you’re so... sensitive...  I can’t dealt with it, I’ve never saw something so beautiful in my life and I’m not even touching you directly yet...”  

He whispered while he was getting hard, too, but didn’t even notice because he was so focused on Rafa’s vulnerable beauty and excitation.

_‘Why is he able to do that, I want him to stay and do this forever... I have to focus not to come too early, or it will be over... puta, I’m sweating too much and I’m tired... that headace is killing me... why... his hand... ‘_

“Roger...”

“yes, baby?”

“I... I can not hold...”

“wait, Rafa, Just wait. I haven’t even touched you directly... You are glowing...”

_‘I’m an idiot. He is right... he is totally right. I’m obsessed with this guy... He is the sun when he smiles,it means the world. And then...then he’s like this, fighting himself.... I hate to see him in pain or anxious.... it makes my heart sink to the bottom of my chest... I’m worried about him.... and on the other hand there isn’t anything more beautiful on earth and I hate myself for feeling this way. I love him so much. He shouldn’t do this things to himself, he should not be suffering ever again in his life, he does not deserve all of this. He deserves to play and win matches without being in pain all the time, he should be free of his anxiety forever.. why is it always him? He’s so goddamn right to be angry with me’...._

_‘why am I letting him do this when I should have to take care of myself...Why does he make me so hot... Why does this make me so helpless and happy and sad at the same time... I can’t tear up now, I just can’t. I will be coming in any second... can’t he just take his hands off...  now he’s moving them under my pants... ‘_

“No Roger! I don’t want to come... “

“Shhht.... Rafa. Relax.”

“No, I can’t...”

“Let it loose, Rafa, it’s okay...don’t fight”

“I don’t want...”

Roger stopped rubbing him. He didn’t want to spoil his urge yet. He knew this could go on all night, and Rafa would come over and over again, like it happened before in the few but very rare times they’ve met like this and started doing those things, but still.... not when he was having a fever and a match next day. He also wouldn’t try to fuck him tonight which was never done quickly because Rafa got too tense and uptight when they tried in the past.

_‘he is sick, he needs to sleep, I can only allow him to come once tonight and... fuck, I already came, without noticing... my pants are all wet by now... but he should wait. He’s too hot like this, I can’t let him come too early, I just can’t...’_

By thinking so he continued caressing Rafa’s balls while enjoying his little moans...

“can you get even harder, Rafa?”

“no... I don’t know if I can...”

Rafa’s lips looked red from biting them, they even bleeded a little at one spot.

He again stopped his moves while his hand was holding Rafa’s hard dick, tight...

“Press, harder Roger... do ...”

Roger obeyed and Rafa’s little moans got louder....

“I don’t want to hurt you today Rafa, you’re alredy in pain”

“Press.”

Rafa had already lost himself. He couldn’t control anything anymore.

“Roger...”

He pressed a little harder...

“I don’t want to come...”

“Shhht Rafa, oh god, you’re so hot... you’re burning... I’ll let you come now and you obey, okay?”

“no...”

“you do.”

And he gave him a final and hard rub. Rafa was there, first groaning in pain of Roger’s hard grip, then starting to moan with delight and pleasure, but still sounding hurt. Roger tried to lick and swallow it all but Rafa came so quick and it seemed like forever...

Rafa was sitting straight up by now from excitement and Roger huged his glowing strong body tight. Rafa trembled in fever and sensual overload. While held tight by Roger's arms, Rafa started to sob.

He finally felt safe, safe and sad. So endlessly sad.

“hey...baby... ”

Rafa’s tears run down his face for endless minutes, he was trembling and sobbing - all the anxiousness and pain came out of him at once. And Roger felt guilty. He should not have done this today, it all was upsetting Rafa too much, and of course he was even more sensible when he was sick. They didn’t speak. As always there were millions of unsaid thing between them, too difficult to find words for.

“I will have to go to my hotel now, Rafa. I will wait until you sleep but then I’ll go and I won’t come back soon. It is too much. This entire situation is not good for you and I should really leave you alone.... Oh god you are so beautiful.... Stop crying Rafa, please, you break my heart. What is making you so sad..?”

“Everything. Nothing... I don’t know...”

“I know, Rafa. Try to be calm... It all will be fine, you will feel better...you are not done yet.. Just don’t torture yourself that much... try not to think too much when you’re feeling this way... just breathe. Please breathe... I am sorry. I love you so much, it’s killing me when you are like this...hey...it’s okay... come’ on... it will be alright. You will feel happy and healthy again....are you in pain?! Here, please take that pill...  just please don’t play, tomorrow okay? Please, Rafa, do you hear me?? Do not play tomorrow!”

Rafa slightly nodded but to Roger’s disappointment said the opposite.

“I have to. I cannot retire while being in a tournament again. I will play. I just want to be able to sleep”

Rafa sobbed again. His body and soul both were in total exhaustion but slowly, he felt relief cringing up his chest. All the crying, this overwhelming orgasm and total loss of control all of a sudden started to feel good, like a ton of weight was falling off his tortured body and soul. The sobbing... he just couldn’t stop it yet.

 

“shhh, Rafa, it’s okay... all will be okay... shht...”

 

After more than 15 minutes held tightly in Rogers arms,  Rafa lie down again and soon he gently fell asleep while Roger was stroking his cheeks and glowing forehead.  

 _‘I won’t come back soon, it’s not fair.’_  Roger whispered to himself and left the hotel- suite.

When Rafa was woken up by Angel the next morning, he first had to recollect himself to realize that what happened wasn’t  a fever- dream.

_‘ I have lost all control...This is so embarassing... like a toy... I’m such a fool..._

_... But wait, why am I feeling okay? Am I better? I Have to forget about it. There is a match today...’_

He felt a slight panic rising up in his chest, again.

He was hoping that Angel wouldn’t notice anything and he didn’t. Roger was careful enough not to leave back any signs of his visit.

“Fever is better, only 37.6 now” Angel said.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Much better. I will play. Just get me ready, somehow.”

And Angel started his procedure of pain- killing- injections into his knee.

“You have to drink more, it won’t be possible like this if you don’t drink...”

“I tried... i couldn’t drink more...”

“You have to.”

Rafa won his match with a last effort of strength, but the fever came back even stronger after the match. Roger won his semifinals, too. One day later after another horrible night, the final happened as Rafa refused to withdraw, again. Rafa lost the long expected meeting between them  6-1/ 6-2, in two sets, for the sixth time in a row but trying hard not to show any signs of weakness or sickness or even despair. He was simply too done to put up any kind of fight.

_‘I will never beat him again, especially when I have this feelings for him. he agitates me too much...maybe his is all tactics by him. To weaken me so much that I can’t beat him again... maybe he’s not even aware of it. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way.... but he has seen me in some of the most embarrassing situations I’ve ever been... I have no idea how this could get so far and this is over for now. I will not let him touch me like this again, because he loves it. It has to stop.. He is playing cat and mouse with me and no matter how hard I’ll miss this nights: it has to stop. But, then again... maybe I just lost like this because I was sick.. and nothing makes me hotter than when he makes me lose control... I have to break this circle, but how?!?! How - when it is feeling so good... I was dominating him in the past... but since we do this things... everything changed... Does it have to do with this? I don’t know. He’s not only dominating me on court but everywhere.  I can’t lose my mind... I have to end it, no matter how beautiful it is, no matter how kind he is with me... .’_

Roger wasn’t feeling as happy as he usually did after winning an important final against his biggest rival, even though the echo in media about him defeating the King of Clay after not playing on that surface for a long time was just enormous. It saddened him more than he had expected.

_‘I won easily, he hasn’t played well, he couldn’t fight and he was sick. Again. I know. Maybe it’s my fault, but at the end of the day, it was him who allowed me to visit him...and he would have also lost if this wouldn’t have happened..._

_And that night... He has been everything...he tears my heart apart but I can’t live without him.  I want to comfort him every day... I don’t want him to be the way he is... he harms himself... why do I adore him that much these last years... It wasn’t this way when he was beating me... I was angry and bitter with him at times... I’m a coward, and he is smart enough to know that I love him like this.. what a shame this all is... but he enjoys it, too, doesn’t he?  I never saw anybody so hyper- sensitive like him... he told me once that it’s only like this when it's me touching him... no one else ever brought him to this state... so it must be enjoyable for him, too... Oh come on, what am I thinking?.... just stop it. Why don’t I just enjoy that we made it this far? I love this man more than anything on earth. It was wonderful and nice and that’s it. It’s his life, after all. He’s responsible for his own decisions..he doesn’t love me, but I do... ‘_

Roger tried to enjoy the win and suppressed further thoughts.

They didn’t meet or text again for the next couple of weeks... the French Open was starting soon. 

Was Rafa angry? Was he still not well? Still so desperated? Close to retire even? Roger tried to stop the thoughts but they came up by far too often. He had to focus on his goal - to win the French - even when it meant hurting Rafa in the worst possible way.

Rafa had no time to think much about what has happened that night while fighting for recovery in time... from that virus which was one of the worst he ever had -it had weakened him to a point he had to give up practice and withdraw from Rome - and from several of his other bodily defects. Just sometimes, when he heard or read about Roger, when he saw him joking and smiling at a pre- French Open press event or even mentioning him in a speech ot interview,  he felt sad.

_‘He’s so relaxed, this old man... He’s almost never injured, always seems so full of confidence.  He’s a son of luck, while I have to fight the dark.... It has always been like this and it’s okay. I won’t give up and he knows that. I can’t categorize these feelings I have for him...it all is messed up..  But I miss those nights. Miss it when he holds me...maybe I think I need him sometimes...but it has to stop. It is over now. ’_


End file.
